


Around

by l0kasenna



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2040633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l0kasenna/pseuds/l0kasenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loras Tyrell was swept into the world of Lords, Ladies and Kings at the ripe age of thirteen. With the promising hope of becoming a Knight, he finds himself at Storm's End, where Renly Baratheon awaits. Loras knows he cares for clothing and lavish goods rather than swords, but he did not expect Renly to care for him.</p><p>Or, the relationship between Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon, as told from Loras's view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Around

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Golden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/690532) by [JeanJacquesFrancois](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanJacquesFrancois/pseuds/JeanJacquesFrancois). 



The first time Loras Tyrell laid eyes on Renly Baratheon, he was but a child of thirteen, torn from his home in Highgarden for slightly less pleasant life at Storm’s End. He could imagine the young lordling wanted him there probably just about as much as Loras wanted to be there, yet he was all smiles and dazzling eyes and somehow that bothered Loras even more. The procession was not overly impressive _(thank the gods),_ just him and his sweet grey mare, plus a couple proud men bearing flags embroidered with his sigil and some old pack horses ponying his belongings.

Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, proud Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. The Gods hadn’t given Lord Tyrell much, but they had graced him with the gift of having an unreasonable amount of money. Well, Loras had naively presumed this money had been hard-earned by his father, but over time came to realize that is was his grandmother who carried his father’s weight in gold. Lady Olenna was incomparably sharp and quick with her tongue; to put it in his eldest brother Willas’s words, she “didn’t take any shit”. Nevertheless, Loras loved being with the older woman, knowing very well her time in his life would not ever be enough; not unless he suffered some untimely death in a tourney or something.

Oh yes, Loras was going to be a knight, and anyone in the Seven Kingdoms, even the simplest of whores, would be blind not to see that. And it was quite unfortunate that he had been sent to squire for the unreasonably famous Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End. With a name like Baratheon, one would expect something different than what Renly was. His brother Robert was quite obviously the King, Protector of the Realms and all that. He had once deserved those titles, been a man a million times greater than the one he was now; Robert had swung his war hammer all the way to the Iron Throne. Loras had heard more tales as a child than he could count about Robert Baratheon, but having seen him at a tourney just past his fifth name day, he could already tell that the King cared for little more than drinks, sex and food.

His brother Stannis was the lesser known of the three, and frankly Loras didn’t know much about him at all other than the fact that he was the Lord of Dragonstone and his wife was Lady Selyse of Florent. He also knew that Stannis was “an uptight little bitch that would outlaw wine if he was so permitted”, as said by his father when Stannis had crept out of his hole a couple years ago and done something or another involving them. Despite Loras’s limited knowledge of the Lord, he did in fact know that Stannis was powerful and fierce, even in his shadowy reign.

Then there was Renly. Loras actually had never met him before; he had been present at the tourney, as he was whenever Robert rose his drunk ass and left King’s Landing, but too busy making sweet fun of the Master of Coin, a slippery man called Petyr Baelish. Renly was knighted as all Lords were, however he much preferred fine silks and velvets to shining armor. Loras could appreciate a well dressed Lord, but he couldn’t imagine choosing to spend ridiculous amounts of money on a single cloak rather than armor or swords.

This leads to Loras’s current interior struggle, which was the fact that he would be squiring for a Lord who would not be enhancing his already practiced skill. It was a common misconception that Loras had been born with some natural talent, when he actually had started working with sticks as soon as he was able to stand, and had been stealing wooden practice swords and occasionally blunted steel in order to practice. The Master-at-arms, Ser Vortimer Crane, cared little to count the swords before retiring in the night. Loras was very thankful for this.

The young boy reached down to pat his mare, a blessedly calm horse who was actually only four years old. Loras thought that Willas was quite possibly the most gifted person with horses that he’d ever encountered, and had bred his grey filly as well as his father’s huge chestnut and the rest of his family’s horses. Watching Willas train his horse had been one of his favorite pastimes in the past few years, and Willas actually had let him help. He said Loras should make sure she was bonded with him before he rode her for the first time. Loras was very glad for this now as she flicked one of her ears back in friendly acknowledgement of his touch, the other remaining alert and forward as she whinnied contently. One of the bannermen’s horses nickered softly in reply and he smiled; in the saddle he felt quite at home.

The gates of Storm’s End were nothing less than impressive, and Loras found that Storm’s End itself was pretty impressive as well for a huge pile of weather-worn rocks. If it wasn’t obvious enough, Storm’s End did in fact encounter some of the worst thunderstorms in the realm. In comparison to the sunny lands in the far west at Highgarden, littered with sun and flowers, any place was hideous. Loras found himself missing his home as they rode through the gates and had the sense that this feeling would not go away for a long while.

As expected, Renly Baratheon was waiting inside the gates to greet his new squire, all bright charming smiles that did not settle Loras’s stomach at all. It wasn’t Renly’s fault for his unhappiness at this certain point in time, but Loras saw something flicker in his eyes like guilt, so he plastered on a smile and dismounted his horse. All eyes were on the two of them as Renly moved forward to shake his hand.

“Loras Tyrell, yes? We have all been anxiously awaiting your arrival..do deign to indulge the serving girls for me, eh? They have not been modest in their pestering. From what they hear of little lords, you are quite the looker,” he said, and Loras was taken aback by how _young_ Renly was. He held himself so regally that from afar, Loras had thought he may have been well into his twenties, but he was probably only a few years older than Loras himself. Through the first sentence, however, he knew he would not have trouble conversing with Renly.

“I believe that is my name, Lord Renly. It is a great pleasure to meet you,” Loras replied, chuckling at the thought of the serving girls. Renly laughed, a full and melodious noise that caused Loras to continue grinning like a madman.

“Please, call me Renly. Most of the serving girls even do. I find that titles simply take up space and violate intimacy, however much the master-at-arms may protest. Even so, this _is_ in fact my castle to rule,” he remarked, “and therefore you shall call me Renly.” Loras nodded, a little uneasy about it but finding it not uncomfortable to refer to him without using “Lord”.

It was late in the evening, and Loras was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. A stableboy had approached to take his mare away, however Loras refused the offer politely, receiving a raised eyebrow from Renly.

“She is my closest friend,” Loras explained, and Renly must have sensed in the increasing slump in his shoulders that he should not argue.

“I understand. Well, you can follow him to the stables then. I will have one of the maids come and fetch you when you are finished in order to show you to your chambers, where your belongings will be taken. I suggest you take some time to get used to the place, you’ll be there for awhile. On the morrow, I will show you the maze that is Storm’s End. Do not worry about duties right now, you are much too tired for that,” he said with a smile, gesturing to the stableboy. Loras nodded, extremely grateful for the break.

“Thank you, Renly.” 

He said the last bit uncertainly, but evidently Renly was content with it, because he dismissed Loras with a nod. He was more than happy to comply.

While sometimes Loras not extremely careful, he did not leave any stone unturned when it came to his horse. He untacked her and brushed her down in a rhythmic fashion, one he’d obviously done many times. Then, he rubbed her legs down with soothing oil, as they had had a hard ride through unforgiving terrain, and wrapped them in his self-fashioned wool wraps. He saw the stableboy watching him in confusion, but knew he would never say anything about it. He decided his horse would not be put into this boy’s care as long as he was here. Nothing personal, he figured.

After ensuring the mare was safely closed in a stall and happily munching on hay, he found a young maid waiting for him outside the door. Renly evidently enjoyed having attractive women in his company, as the maid was young and extremely pretty. She bowed her head in fashion to Loras and greeted him, directing him to follow her into the castle. As soon as he stepped into Storm’s End, he discovered why Renly had referred to it as a “maze”. The halls were short in length and seemed to split indefinitely into other halls, and Loras found himself slightly dizzy at the way this girl moved about them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they approached a wooden door in the servants quarters that was completely identical to the others in the hall. She nodded for him to enter and left swiftly, to Loras’s surprise. Perhaps Renly did not send the girl to entice him. He found he was quite grateful to be spared from the pestering. In fact, Loras had never looked at a woman and been remotely tempted.

These thoughts swirled in his mind as he pushed open the door, and he found himself wondering more and more about Renly. Although no one could deny he was hospitable and kind, Loras couldn’t help but wonder about the older boy. And that’s what he was, wasn’t he? Just a boy, probably not more than sixteen, with a tad more political experience but no more honour than Loras himself. And Loras was angry about it; why couldn’t he have some noble, highborn night? Certainly there was one somewhere, and one that was marginally better at the act of _being a knight_ than Renly. However, he supposed it was too late at this point and he might as well make the best of it. At least, that was what he told himself. Maybe he would believe it in time.

His room was, predictably, the polar opposite of what his chambers at Highgarden looked like. The walls were deep grey stone, slightly eroded with age and rough to the touch, and cast dark shadows from the candlelight that Loras had placed on the bedside table. There were no windows, as the servant’s quarters were below ground. As expected, the furniture was minimal; an old wooden bed devoid of sheets with a feather pillow, a wooden bedside table, and a spare stone chair that appeared as though it had been sitting in the room eternally. His belongings sat in the shadows of the cold walls next to the door, and included a couple of trunks and saddlebags full of clothing.

Upon opening one of these trunks to begin unpacking, Loras found himself kneeling on the stone floor with his head buried in his hands, overcome with homesickness. He reached up, blindly grasping for the lock on the chamber door. Finding it, he slid the bold across the lock and collapsed against it, all sense of modesty lost. Sobs caused his spine to jar against the unforgiving wall, but he couldn’t find himself to care for the pain. In fact, he welcomed it. Loras thanked the Gods that he was capable of silently crying, for he could not bear the humiliation of emerging to the stares of dozens of servants, especially ones that seemed to admire him.

His thoughts strayed to Highgarden and his beloved family that he left behind. Out of all of them, he missed sweet Margaery the most. She was quite possibly one of the most beautiful girls in the seven realms despite being the age of twelve. She was tall and was beginning to develop soft curves as well as breasts, with waves of soft brown hair falling past her shoulders. She had large brown doe eyes and wore a smart, charming smirk that enhanced her features in an incredible fashion. Margaery had the personality to match as well, and always turned an ear when Loras needed it; especially when their father deemed it appropriate to verbally berate him. 

Loras became even more upset when he realized that the next time he would see his sister, she would be grown and most likely betrothed to some useless Lord, maybe one of Stark’s pups or one of the King’s blonde offspring. No matter who it was, he was equally upset. Well, perhaps that was a stretch, but it pained him to think of Margaery without her innocence and childish beauty. It would be years before he saw her, and she would grow into a woman as beautiful and fierce as the Lady Queen herself, with perhaps a slight bit more heart. He wondered who his father would choose for her; of course the choice wouldn’t be made lightly, for Margaery was his prized possession.

His father came into his thoughts next, and Loras didn’t quite know how to feel about him at the current moment. It was no secret that Mace Tyrell was a hospitable man, cheerful and finding the light in almost every situation, but most did not know of Mace Tyrell’s separate side. In fact, the children that Lord Tyrell had produced were quite possibly the only ones. Loras knew his father had only the best intentions at heart, and didn’t really mean what he said, but the instances were not few and far between when he was thundering through the halls where his children slept, screaming at them and bashing in their doors and shaking them and screaming more but never hitting them and-

Loras sniffled rather unattractively as he thought of his father. He supposed most fathers did this to their children, especially Lords that expected highly of their children. For some reason, he had always gotten the bad end of his father’s frenzies, and both his sister and his brothers knew this. Willas used to take him out on the horses when Loras would run to him with frightened eyes and tears falling in an endless stream down his face.

Willas was Loras’s idol, his inspiration. Loras dreamed to be as smart as his brother and as talented as he. Willas seemed to be good at _everything_ , and Loras was ever so envious of his eldest brother. He had used this jealously to better himself, though, and Loras was proud of himself for that. In a few short weeks, Willas would be traveling to compete in his first tourney, and although Loras would not be able to attend he had told Margaery she must send ravens as soon as anything happened. Margaery always kept her promises.

Garlan, he was furthest from. The middle child of the three boys, Garlan was an extremely skilled swordsman and almost identical to Loras. He was probably about the same age as Renly was, and therefore three years older than Loras. Garlan was incredibly skilled with a sword but not as ambitious as Loras was; he would make his achievements as he made them. Loras appreciated this about his brother but knew he could never even try being as patient as he.

Having run out of tears at this point, Loras pushed thoughts of his home out of his mind. The candle was still burning bright, although a good deal lower than it had been, and his back was on fire. Since when had he enjoyed pain? Loras assumed it was some kind of hysteria that had caused him to repeatedly press up against the stone wall, and although this was his fault he was still annoyed at the fact that there would be bruises littering his spine later on. Ignoring the dull ache, he climbed face-first into the soft bed, not bothering to dress it, and pulled the blanket that had been lying in the top of his trunk over his head like a child of three.

Although he had cried until his chest ached and eyes burned, Loras found he was too tired to sleep. He lay on the bed for an eternity and could almost _feel_ the bruise-like circles forming underneath his eyes. It was maddening to be left alone with his thoughts for this long, especially the dark, morbid ones that tended to cross his mind at this hour and in this state. So he shrugged his shoulders in false indifference to himself and continued to lay staring at nothing and everything but wishing for anything but being there.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I decided to pursue this work in hopes to enhance the cloudy perspective of Renly and Loras's relationship. Let me know how I'm doing please! In other words, love on my writing okay :) Also, this was definitely influenced by the fic Golden by JeanJacquesFrancois, it in fact inspired me to write from Loras's perspective instead of Renly's. While this can be read standalone, many details were inspired by their fic and it's beautiful so check it out!


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